I feel privileged, to be honest.

Somehow or another, my mother taught me to push through my fear, always. Feel the fear and do it anyway.

That's a difficult question, because to consider yourself a rebel is sort of ridiculous.

I've got no timetable. I'm sort of sick of timetables, to be honest.

I couldn't feel good about myself hanging out in Armani clothes when my girlfriend can't even pay her heating bill. I'd feel foul and I'd be embarrassed.

I have a temper on me that could hold back tides.

I wouldn't say that cutting was pleasurable, but there is a sense of euphoria that follows cutting yourself. The quick pinch of pain and the sight of blood snaps you back to the surface and you start to appreciate being alive.